


I want to see you suffer

by EmmaSpencer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Forced Druguse, Helpless Greg, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Mycroft To The Rescue, Sick Mycroft, Torture, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 16:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12536508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaSpencer/pseuds/EmmaSpencer
Summary: It's Christmas; time for celebration, family, love, a warm fireplace and good food; but not for Greg and Mycroft. For them it's cold, painful and hopeless. Greg just sat on the cold ground watching Mycroft suffer, unable to do anything, hoping someone starts missing them soon.





	I want to see you suffer

"Mycroft can you hear me? Mycroft!" Greg called his name worriedly; he could faintly see Mycroft in the darkened corner of the room; but Mycroft just whimpered. "Please love answer me!"  
"Love, so cute." the door opened.  
"What do you want? Who are you?" Greg asked immediately.  
"What do I want? To see you suffer like I did, or preferably more than me."  
"But why?" he walked in front of Greg.  
"Remember me? Maybe not me, but my little brother. You arrested him!"  
"He was a murderer."  
"It was self defence!"  
"Yeah, stabbing an old lady seven times is self defence."  
"Shut up! She wasn't just an innocent old lady as you all think her to be!" he raised the bat he was holding; Greg closed his eyes and waited for the blow, but there was nothing. He opened his eyes immediately when Mycroft cried out.  
"No! Please don't hurt him!" Greg tried to get up but his hands were chained to the ground behind his back.  
"See, that's exactly what I want. Because of you, my little brother became an addict, he sold himself for drugs and one morning they found him in his cell dead...he hanged himself! All because of you! Now you'll pay for it." he kicked Mycroft violently. "Get up!" Mycroft cried out and curled up defensively. "I said get up!" he kicked him again and again until somehow he managed to get him to the centre of the room. From the light coming in through the small window Greg could see that despite the freezing temperature Mycroft was only wearing his shirt, which was torn and coloured with blood. Mycroft just lied there whimpering.  
"Mycroft!" he looked around with fear not knowing where he was, Greg caught his eyes, his pupils were constricted.  
"What have you given to him?"  
"I'm not sure what is in it exactly, the main component is morphine I think."  
"Why?"  
"Have you been through withdrawal? I heard it's horrid." he chuckled. "I wonder how long will it take for him to get used to it." he leaned down, pulled up one of Mycroft's sleeves.  
"No, no!" Mycroft whined.  
"Shhh, it'll be better in a moment." he gave in the drug. "There, there...it started to wear off you see." he stroked a lock of hair out of his face.  
"Don't touch him!" Greg yelled at him.  
"I thought about that too, but it's just not my kind of thing...it's disgusting, unnatural. My brother would never do that if it wasn't for the prison; he was young, weak, the drugs; easy target....But no; I'm not going to do that to him; It'll be even worse." he smiled and left.  
Greg could do nothing just to sit there watching Mycroft's slow breathing; hoping he won't stop with it, hoping someone starts missing them soon. "I'm so sorry My, so sorry." he whispered.

"I need to use the bathroom." Greg said when he came back again.  
"I won't let you out of here, don't try it."  
"But I really..."  
"I don't care." he gave the drug to Mycroft.  
"But the last dose hasn't worn off jet!"  
"I don't care."  
"You'll just kill him!" he didn't answer.  
Greg was left alone with his ever growing worry as he tried to watch Mycroft's chest rise, but he couldn't see a thing as the sun went down.  
Greg just sat there helplessly watching Mycroft. He kept coming back drugging Mycroft, according to Greg's estimation they've been here for more than three days now.

 

Greg was woken by the cold water from the pressure washer. "Bloody hell!" his head shot up, he tried to look around but the washer blinded him.  
"Had enough?" Greg just coughed; he looked for Mycroft who was in the corner trying to hide from the cold water.  
"Mycroft! Mycroft!" Greg called his name when they remained alone. Mycroft just lied there with his back to him. "Mycroft! Come here now!" he said sternly but he just whined. "I know love, but you have to! Come on, do this for me!" Mycroft turned and started to crawl to his direction. "That's it love, come here; please." Mycroft finally reached him and curled up next to him. "I'm sorry My, I'm so sorry. How are you?"  
"Cold." Mycroft whined as he rested his forehead against Greg's thigh.  
"I'm sorry love."  
"I want to go home." he whispered.  
"I know, I'm sorry." Greg wanted nothing more than to cover Mycroft with his coat that he was still wearing, but his hands were tied tightly and Mycroft wasn't in a state to rip it off from him, so he just sat there watching the shaking Mycroft and he started to sing quietly to him.  
"The singing detective." Greg didn't hear the door open. "The show ends for now." he made a loop from the whip he was holding and pulled Mycroft back to the centre of the room. He tried to get away from him, coughing when he was released.  
"No, no. You stay here." he hit Mycroft with the whip, who collapsed back with a cry. "Good. You know that there are still countries where they flog your kind to death?"  
"And hang your kind." Greg looked at him hatefully. "His eyes!" he cried out when Mycroft was hit on the face.  
"Don't interrupt me Lestrade!" Greg tried to look at Mycroft's face to determine how bad it was, but he hid it. Mycroft was turned to his stomach and the whip kept coming down on him. "Interesting." he stopped when Mycroft's shirt got torn and his back was exposed.  
"It's not only you who had a hard childhood." Greg remembered that they were taken out of the family because of abuse, hoping that he won't continue if he thinks Mycroft suffered as well. He indeed hesitated for a few second, but then continued with the whipping until Mycroft was just a whimpering bloody mess. Greg needed all his strength not to scream, not to break down in front of him.  
"Do you really love him?" Greg nodded. "Don't seem like it. Before you were shouting when I just touched him and now nothing." Greg couldn't risk answering; he knelt in front of him examining his face carefully. Greg lowered his head but he forced him to look up, so he closed his eyes. "Playing the strong guy, I see. You think this will help him? Hmm?" he let go of Greg and walked back to Mycroft. "I always wanted to try this. In the movies it hurts, I wonder..." Greg opened his eyes to see him ripping off one of Mycroft's nails; he cried out in agony. "So it hurts!" he said triumphantly. "Now another one." thankfully Mycroft passed out after the second one. He stood up looking down at Mycroft and then at Greg who couldn't control his tears anymore. "Doesn't it hurt Lestrade, seeing your beloved being hurt, not being able to do anything; not being able to protect them, ease their pain......getting to the point where the only merciful thing is to help them end their misery." he mumbled as he walked out; Greg's eyes grew wide in realisation.  
Greg looked at Mycroft through his tears, he had a cut on his cheek but it thankfully missed his eye, he couldn’t see his back. He sat there helplessly, wondering what he'll do to him next; what could he come up with that would make him kill Mycroft. He was brought back from his thoughts by a strange noise; it took him a second to determine that it was coming from Mycroft.  
"Mycroft! Mycroft!" he called his name loudly. "Mycroft Holmes turn to your side now! I said now!" he said sternly. "Turn to your side!" slowly, but Mycroft obeyed. Greg sighed seeing it. "Thank you love." Not long after he started to vomit, his whole body was shaking violently. "It's all right My, I'm here...you are going to be fine, I promise. You just have to get through this, it'll pass...it will believe me, please My. It’ll be over soon, you’ll get better…I promise…" he kept talking to him as he suffered from the withdrawal.

Greg looked at Mycroft worriedly, he was still shaking, whimpering, he lost lots of fluid, he looked feverish, he was sweating, he didn't respond to his name. Greg's eyes shot at the door as it opened.  
"Leave him alone!" he could only whisper after talking to Mycroft nonstop for hours and hours. He brought in the pressure washer again and washed Mycroft off, the cold water woke him. "Hi there." he crouched next to him. "I brought you something." he showed him a syringe.  
"Mycroft; don't listen to him, please love. You don't need it..."  
"Shut up! It'll help." he turned back to Mycroft. "It'll take away the pain, you won't feel the cold...Do you want it?" Mycroft nodded. "No, no. Say it."  
"Please, I need it." Mycroft pleaded.  
"No you don't Mycroft! Please don't listen to him, please. It's almost over, you know it."  
"You can get it if you make him shut up." he pointed at Greg.  
"Mycroft don't!" Mycroft pushed himself to his hands and knees and slowly made his way to Greg. "My, don't do this, there is no need for it...please love." Greg pleaded, he knew what Mycroft was capable off and he wasn't sure that he could think rationally at the moment. "I love you Mycroft, please don't do this to me...it's me Gregory...please! MY!"

Greg slowly opened his eyes, at first he could only see his legs, he tried to raise his head, but it hurt, it hurt so much. Finally he managed to look up; the room was dimly lit by the evening or morning sun he wasn't entirely sure how long he was out. Then his eyes stopped at the two bodies laying in front of him.  
"My!" he tried to call out but almost no sound came out of him and it just only caused him more pain. He looked at them more closely trying to determine if any of them were breathing, he felt his heart wanting to jump out of his chest. It looked like that Mycroft's chest was moving, he was hoping that it was real not just his imagination; then Mycroft moved.  
"Mycroft!" Greg started to cough.  
"Gregory." Mycroft pushed himself to a sitting position. "I'm so sorry Gregory, sorry." Greg shook his head. "Key." he mouthed.  
"What is it my dear?" Mycroft lied back.  
"Mycroft, Mycroft...get up...now!" he tried to speak again.  
"Hmmm?" he opened his eyes. "Could you come closer, I can't hear you." Greg shook his head. "Why not?" he tried indicating his arms. "Oh...sorry." Mycroft mumbled and started to look through his pockets. "Here you go!" he held the key in front of Greg, he just rolled his eyes. "Sorry, everything is a bit...strange now." Greg nodded. After lots of attempts Mycroft finally managed to get the chains off Greg, he rubbed his wrist, pain flashing through his face as he tried to move his fingers. Mycroft curled up next to him his head resting on his thigh; Greg gently put his head down and stood up slowly. He stepped to the body to make sure that he was dead. He waited until he could stand properly on his feet and pulled Mycroft up; pain shooting through his arms from the effort.  
"NO!" Mycroft cried out. "Please, don't...it hurts." he whined.  
"We have to leave My." Greg whispered to his ears.  
"Where to?"  
"Home."  
"Can I sleep when we get there?"  
"As much as you like, but now you have to help me."  
"Okay." Mycroft took one shaky step after the other. Greg had to put him down to open the door. "Are we there yet?"  
"Sorry My a bit further." Greg whispered as he pulled him up again. He sighed seeing the stairs in front of them. Their journey up was slow Mycroft kept slipping from his arms. Greg hoped to find a telephone in the house, but there was nothing. He looked out of the window, it was morning but there were no neighbours, only snowy fields as long as he could see. He found Mycroft's coat, but his phone was dead; he sighed with frustration. Greg got the coat on Mycroft. "Come on love we have to walk."  
"Can't we just call Anthea?"  
"Sorry, not now."  
"But why? Or we can call Sherlock...if we really have to."  
"Sorry Mycroft. It's walking now."  
"But it's so cold."  
"I know, I know. That's why we have to hurry." Greg stood hesitantly at the end of the driveway, everything was covered with snow; he couldn't make out any road. "Which way now?" Mycroft looked around.  
"So bright!" he buried his face to Greg's coat. "Left."  
"Thank you My." Greg tightened his hold around Mycroft who kept his eyes closed. Greg thought they'll have to walk all day long to get to a village or a town, but only an hour later he heard the church bells. "Do you hear that My? Bells?"  
"They've been ringing for hours now Gregory."  
"What?"  
"You didn't hear them? They've been bothering me since I woke up."  
"Come on, we are almost there."   
"Oh there's another one now; how lovely." he mumbled. "I was never a big church going guy, no one in the family was; we all dedicated our life to science, not this mumbo-jumbo about a man sitting on a cloud. Although I have seen a cartoon once where white hippo like creatures and a little angry red girl...oh and a green boy were flying around on pink clouds. They enjoyed it very much." Greg placed a hand to his forehead; Mycroft was burning up under his hand. "Would you like to try that Gregory? Personally I'm not too fond of flying, I have to because of my work, but I prefer staying on the ground. Is it a Christmas song I hear? It's not you I hope, because it's terribly out of tone."  
"No Mycroft, it's not me. Could you open your eyes now?"  
"I'm not dead jet Gregory." he looked around in the church yard.  
"I know love, but this is the closest place and there is someone definitely in here." Greg tried to push the church door open, but he was too weak for it. "Could you yell for help My?"  
"You think they would help us?"  
"Why not?"  
"Because we are...you know; together."  
"Mycroft Holmes, yell; now!" he looked at him sternly.  
"Fine, fine...HELP! HELP! HELP! Was it enough or shell I continue?" the singing stopped.   
"One more My."  
"HELP!" the door opened, Greg who was leaning to it lost his balance and fell pulling Mycroft with him. He looked up to be met by children, the choir master quickly ushered them away.  
"Help us." Greg whispered.  
"What Gregory wants to stay is that we are in a need of assistance." Mycroft sat up. "How nice it is; I do not care for religion, but the architecture is magnificent!" he tried to stand up; the choir master had to catch him before he fell. "Much obliged. Could you let go off my back, for some reason it hurts terribly." Greg managed to fish his ID out of his pocket and handed it to the man who was still looking at them with suspicion.  
"I need your phone." he said. He called Anthea when he got the phone.  
"Gregory..." Mycroft leaned to him. "Do you think we could get married here?"  
"I don't know My."  
"I'd love to, it is so beautiful. Will you ask them?"  
"Sure. Now sit down love." he pulled him to a bench, Mycroft lied down and curled up.  
"This will do. Could you call Anthea now?" Greg sat to the ground, his head resting on his arm as he stroked Mycroft’s hair.  
"Already did, she'll pick us up very soon."  
"Good; I love you Gregory."  
"I love you too Mycroft."

 

"How's he?" Greg asked with tears in his eyes when Anthea came to see him. "No one's telling me a thing! Anthea..." she sat next to him. "Please tell me he is fine." he pleaded.  
"He is still alive." Greg gave out a little whimper. Anthea sat next to him on the bed and pulled him to her arms. "It's not your fault Greg."  
"But it is."  
"No, it isn't, please believe me.”  
"How's he?"  
"They are hopeful that he'll make it..." Greg tightened his hold around her.  
"How's he?" Anthea sighed.  
"He has a high fever, pneumonia, broken ribs, infected wounds, broken fingers, missing nails; he is dehydrated, malnourished, like you..."  
"I'm fine."  
"No you are not. Greg do you think you can tell me what happened now?"  
"We went to have lunch on Friday; I don't really remember what happened, but the next thing I know that I was tied to the ground. He did it because his brother killed himself in prison, form his words I took that he influenced him to do it. That is what he was planning to do with us; hurting My so much that the only merciful thing would be for me to kill him. Why didn't you find us?"  
"Because it was the weekend and then the Christmas holiday. I was happy that finally we had a Christmas without work, I thought you were enjoying the peace...I'm so sorry."  
"It's okay Anthea, you couldn't know. He kept drugging him; then he told Mycroft to silence me if he wants more...I wasn't sure it won't be permanent."  
"He wouldn't do that to you Greg."  
"He wanted the drug...you've seen Sherlock."  
"We are talking about Mycroft now. And then?"  
"I don't know, I passed out; when I came around he was dead. There was no phone in the house so we walked."  
"Thank you Greg." he was shaking from the sobs. "Shhh, it's okay. You are safe, you are both safe. You made it, you are back with us. You brought him home, you did it…" she stroked his back until Greg calmed down.

 

"Have you asked them?" Greg's head shot up when Mycroft spoke.  
"Mycroft?"  
"You promised you'll ask them if we could get married there." he opened his eyes.  
"Sorry, I...I was...sorry."  
"It's okay, you can still ask them." he smiled, Greg smiled back at him and stroked his face.  
"Hi there!"  
"Hello Gregory. Are you all right? I'm so sorry I had to do that...I'm sorry. I would never hurt you Gregory, but that was the only way to get out of there."  
"I know, thank you." he kissed him. "I'm so sorry Mycroft..."  
"We knew this could happen; anyways I had worse."  
"Somehow that doesn't make me feel better." he wiped down his tears.  
"Please don't cry. There is no need Gregory, we are fine...please. Come here." he patted the bed next to him; Greg shook his head. "Don't argue Lestrade!" his eyes pierced through him, Greg sat next to him; Mycroft pulled him down so his head was resting on his chest.  
"Your ribs." Greg mumbled.  
"Hush now." Mycroft stroked his hair as he sobbed. "Shhh...I'm here, we are fine. I don't blame you my dear...you have to believe me...please Gregory. These things happen, and unfortunately will happen; maybe next time because of me. I know it's not easy to accept it, to believe it, but I don't blame you, I love you Gregory." finally Greg stopped crying. "How will you control Sherlock in a state like this?"  
"Was he here?"  
"Nope...I don't know. I just woke up."  
"But you already know that I have a case which involves your brother."  
"Told you I'm fine." Mycroft kissed the top of his head.  
"I don't want to let go of you, never ever again."  
"My dear." Mycroft tightened his hold around him.  
"Marry me!" Greg looked him in the eyes.  
"I thought I already asked you." he smiled at him.  
"So is it a yes."  
"Of course Gregory." Greg kissed him.  
"What is going on here?" a nurse came in.  
"He said yes." Greg sat up with a smile. "He said yes." Mycroft chuckled.  
"All right, off the bed, now!"  
"Sorry." Greg mumbled.  
"I'll get the doctor."

Greg was pacing on the corridor while they examined Mycroft.  
"Greg?" Anthea looked at him questioningly.  
"He said yes!"  
"Oh...I see. So he's awake." Greg nodded.  
"The doctor is in there now. He said yes."  
"I heard it the first time, congratulations." Greg continued to pace, Anthea grabbed his arm and pulled him to a hug.  
"He woke up, he said he was fine...he already knew that Sherlock is working with me again...he is fine...he is fine."  
"I told you so."  
The doctor came out.  
"He is through the worse. Now he needs rest, lots of rest!" Greg nodded."This goes to you too." she looked at Anthea.  
"It's not up to me you know it perfectly well. He gets bored..."  
"Anthea!"  
"I'll do my best."  
"You always say that and few days later he is out of here."  
"Greg will help this time."  
"I hope so, he's not getting younger; we can't just shrug and say that he had worse...yes I know he had. But he needs to rest, his body needs to heal properly if he wants to continue doing this." she nodded. "Congratulation on your engagement, I hope you'll invite me too."   
"Most certainly." They turned to go back to Mycroft. "So...who is she?" Anthea chuckled.  
"Are we jealous? She is his doctor, the only one he'd go to, the only one who can tolerate him and reason with him...a bit."  
Mycroft slowly opened his eyes when they entered; Greg could see that he was tired.  
"Good to see you Anthea."  
"You too Mycroft." she kissed his forehead.  
"I know, I know you talked with her and she said that I have to rest...as always." he yawned. "Apologies."  
"You do need to rest." Greg arranged the blankets around him.  
"Just a few hours." he mumbled as he closed his eyes.  
"You can sleep as long as you like love."  
"Hmmm, will you stay with me?"  
"Of course." Greg stroked his hair.  
"I love you Gregory, don't forget to ask them."  
"I won't don't worry." Greg smiled.


End file.
